Attack of the Mary Sues
by The Impossible Duo
Summary: A Mary Sue for each Newsie. Think you can handle it? Major sappiness and fluff inside. Please read and flame. Reformatted, problems uploading! ARG! ! !


Okay, so the Mary Sue thing has been way over done, we all agree, right? What would happen if our boys were invaded by several at once? A a a a a a a a. . . . .  
  
Disclaimer: We, yes, that's neither of us, own the Newsies except in our own twisted minds.  
  
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Lifting her head, Susanna moaned as pain called out to her from every corner of her body. She wished she were dead, thinking it better than trying to stand, but she had been through worse. Gathering her senses, fully aware of every bruise and every cut received by last nights beating, she moved to a sitting position, having to stop mid-action due to the dizzying effect caused by the concussion she undoubtedly had.   
  
Pausing, she pondered the events that brought her to such a state. Running, she remembered she had been running, but he caught up with her in the alley and taught her a lesson. A lesson Susanna would not soon forget. Little souvenirs would linger about her head, face, chest, arms, and legs for weeks to come.  
  
Finally gaining all her facilities, she stood realizing it had been awhile since her last meal. Finding something to eat would be her first priority, but from where. Looking around, spying a pretzel vendor, she casually strolled in his direction. Susanna waited until the vendor was busy with a customer and ran past grabbing her breakfast, wishing she had mustard. Oh well, in such a case, she supposed she would have to live. She could not very well walk back up to the cart and ask for it. However, she was good at stealing things, no; the risk of being caught for taking mustard was too high. She would just have to do without it this time.  
  
Belly full, she decided her next priority should be to find a place to live or some from of livelihood. Walking until she saw a sign hanging above an entryway, Susanna stopped to read. 'Hm, Newsboys Lodging House, I wonder if they have room for girls as well.' It was worth a try; after all; she had nowhere else to go.   
  
The building seemed deserted; the boys who lived there must have been out selling the morning edition already. The man who seemed to be in charge was leaning back in a chair behind a battered wooden desk. He was an older man, probably in his mid-sixties or so, with a kind and gentle, weathered face. Looking up as she approached he smiled a warm, inviting smile that told her she was welcome.  
  
"Come in, come in, how may I help you today young lady?"  
  
"Sir, I know the sign outside says Newsboys Lodging House, but well, I'm wondering. . . ?" Her voice trailed off allowing the man to finish her question.  
  
"If there are any newsgirls?"  
  
"Well, yes, that and if you have room for one."  
  
"Let me take a look here in my register. Yes, yes, you are in luck, it seems a bed opened up last night. But to live here, you must sell the papes. First night's free, ten cents a week after, just sign the book here."  
  
Kloppman looked over his glasses as the girl signed her name. Her long blonde hair shone like the sun and cascaded over her slender shoulders. He watched as she hesitated, knowing she did not want to use her real name. None of them did and the old man understood.   
  
"Just make up a name for yourself, it's okay, all the boys do."  
  
"I was wondering if someone actually named their son Snoddy."  
  
Kloppman laughed along with her - it was a funny name.   
  
"Dear me what have we here? It seems heaven has opened up and sent us an angel. What's your name, Sunshine?"  
  
Kloppman observed as she signed the book "Sunshine". He smiled and nodded.   
  
Susanna looked up and saw the boy who asked the question. He was a short little dark haired guy with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. "What's it to you, Shorty?"  
  
Racetrack glared at the flaxen haired beauty before him, noticing that she did not back down. She stared him down just as easily with her blue eyes. Their match of intimidation might have gone on all day had Kloppman not intervened.  
  
"Sunshine, this is Racetrack Higgins, Race, Sunshine here is the newest member of our little gang."  
  
He broke his stare and glanced sideways at the voice. "She's gonna live here? Kloppman, you know there are no girls in the house."  
  
"Well, it's time for a change. This little lady looks a little down on her luck, much as you and several of the other boys did when you entered through that door the first time. I haven't turned away anyone yet and I don't plan to start now."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Now why don't you go get whatever it was you forgot this morning and take her out selling with you?" Race knew better than to argue with the old man. Nodding, he ran up the stairs and quickly came thundering back down again. Reaching the bottom step, he stopped, pulled out his hat and looked over at the girl.  
  
"You's ready? The papes ain't gonna sell themselves."  
  
Looking uncertainly at Kloppman, her eyes asked if she would be safe. The old man could tell this one had been through a lot.  
  
"It's okay, you're in safe hands. Really, I wouldn't steer you wrong. I'll see you back here tonight." Turning to the Race, he added, "Why don't you fill her in on some of the rules while you're out?"  
  
"Sure, Kloppman, I'll take good care of her."  
  
Stepping back out into the sunlight, Race picked up his pile of papers from off of the front step.  
  
She waited until they were out of earshot of Kloppman before speaking. "I don't need you to take care of me. I can do perfectly well on my own, thank you."  
  
"Oh, then you know all about selling the papes, running from the bulls, scaling walls, hiding out and fighting on the street?"  
  
"Well. . .no. But I'm sure if you can do it, I can." She said defiantly, throwing back her hair and standing tall.  
  
Race had to admit it she was feisty. He wondered how that would go over with the other guys. They were used to women fawning allover them, batting their eyelashes helplessly all the time, weak to the ways of the world. This one had spunk and a past. He could see it in those eyes, eyes bluer than the sky.   
  
Returning to his thoughts, he gently tugged at her sleeve pulling her toward his usual selling spot. 


End file.
